


Wicked Tongues

by red_crate



Series: Kinktober 2018 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Peter, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Peter's going to come. Just like this, just from his mate’s mouth and fingers playing with him as they goad each other.





	Wicked Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in an hour?

 

As soon as the door opens, Stiles is right there—tugging Peter into their apartment with a hooked arm around his neck and their bodies presses up tight together as he kisses him before he even says anything. Not that Peter is going to complain. He drops his satchel and shrugs out of his coat with no help at all from his mate, too warm for too long and wanting to get naked  _ now _ . 

The two of them work together stripping Peter's shirt off and leaving a trail of wrinkled and ripped clothes in their wake, casualties of desire. By the time he's being shoved onto the bed—and fuck, how much he likes  _ human _ and deceptively wiry Stiles being able to put him right where he wants him—Peter's naked and whining in his throat. Doesn't even think about it, just follows instinct to get on his knees and press his chest to the mattress, presents himself and his curved spine enticingly.

“God damn it,” Stiles rumbles, voice lower in reaction to the pheromones pouring off Peter. He sounds wrecked and appreciative, making Peter arch a little more for his alpha, spread his knees a little wider. “Your  _ ass _ .” 

Peter can feel the cool air against his opening. He's been too close to the edge of his heat all day, but hadn't wanted to cancel his last meeting of the day. It would be a lie to say he had rushed home—because he knew Stiles was waiting impatiently for him, knew it would make both of them want it just a little bit more if he drew out his arrival. Stiles always tells him he's an asshole, but the fondness around the word says  _ I love that about you _ . 

So Peter took his time getting home. He drove his car carefully through the back roads of town, toes curling and breath short as he tried not to squirm and make a mess through the seat of his pants. Now he's on his knees, ass up, and he's  _ dripping _ with his body’s and his mind’s desire to fuck, to knot, to be tied up with Stiles for the next two days in a frenzy of skin and fingers and teeth and bruises—to feel and to touch.

Stiles’ wide palms come to rest on his ass cheeks, spreading them apart so he can see. Peter knows how much Stiles likes to look at him when he's turned on, when Peter's stretching himself, when Stiles’ cock is sliding in and out. Stiles likes to look at it. A wave of heady need rolls over Peter as he thinks about those eyes on him now, how pleased with his omega Stiles smells. He can smell the precome beading up at the tip of Stiles’ cock, and Peter needs it in him now. 

“Darling,” he tries, voice cracking because his throat is dry. He pushes back into Stiles’ touch, hoping to encourage his mate to unzip those godawfully tight jeans of his and push his cock straight in. “Now is when you fuck me.” 

Peter drops his head to the bed and groans in frustration when he hears Stiles drop to his knees. “ _ Stiles _ ,” he's not above pleading.

Stiles pulls Peter backwards by the hips until Peter's shins hang off the edge of the bed. When he speaks, his warm breath feels cold against Peter's slick ass. “You brought this on yourself,” he teases, smile curving the words as his thumbs toy with Peter's rim. 

“You would have done this anyway,” Peter accuses. He screws his eyelids tight and pants when the first hot stripe of Stiles’ tongue passes over his center. Still, he groans out, “You love my ass.”

“Duh,” is Stiles’ very mature and very honest answer. He keeps making these slow, wide licks from Peter's balls up over his entrance. He pulls away just long enough to say, “One of your best qualities.”

Peter would roll his eyes. However, pride flushes over him, and he's really too consumed by his heat to rise above his base instincts. Still, he pushes back, urging Stiles to keep touching him, keep licking at him. It might not be Stiles’ cock, but the man does have a wickedly talented tongue. “ _ Alpha _ ,” he teases, as if accusing Stiles of being a cliche—as if Peter doesn't love how much pleasure Stiles gets out of rimming him and getting Peter's slick all over his mouth and chin. 

Stiles works the tip of his tongue inside, firming up his muscle to breach and trace along where Peter is hottest and wettest. Retreating so he can speak, Stiles says, “Yeah, baby, keep calling me that. Tell me how much you need it.” His long fingers have snuck inside Peter as he spoke, like he just can't bear not to  _ touch _ even as they banter back and forth. Stiles bites a cheek sharply, teasing, “ _ Omega _ .”

Peter's going to come. Just like this, just from his mate’s mouth and fingers playing with him as they goad each other. His heat is coursing through him, and Stiles is eating it up—literally and figuratively. And Peter loves him for it all. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna come hang out with me on Tumblr, I'm [here](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).
> 
> Comment if you enjoyed this, please!


End file.
